A Watery Refuge
by werewolf.love
Summary: The most popular sex god of the Slytherins has a crush with ginger hair.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"You don't understand. It's impossible to live like this. I'm going mad."

"Oh no, I _do_ understand. I have a horrible life as well, if you'll remember."

"No Myrtle, you don't _have_ a life. You're dead."

"Humph. So I am. You're just like the other boys who come here and bother me, you know. They make fun of me and promise to visit but never do."

"Oh, just go swim in your drains Myrtle. Leave me alone for a bit."

"That's fine. I can tell when I'm not wanted."

"You're not wanted."

The ghost disappeared through the toilet with a wail and Draco Malfoy was alone. He was alone and the tears slid down his cheek unremittingly. Facing the mirror, he sneered at his reflection.

You see, Draco wasn't an unattractive boy. He wasn't too short or too tall. He didn't have yellowed teeth or strange, uninviting eyebrows. He was thin, blonde, and had sharp features that evoked resemblance of his father. He was smart, popular, and wanted by nearly all of the Slytherin girls (and boys) of his year. He was handy with a wand, quick witted, and graceful on a broomstick. All of this accomplishment and yet his reflection still made him cringe with dislike. Because despite all of his good qualities that made him commonly irresistible, there was still one person who wasn't impressed with him. The one person who Draco just couldn't stop thinking about.

The bathroom door swung open as Draco was in mid-wallow.

"Fuck!"

"Quite the operative word, Malfoy," came the voice attached to the most unwelcome of intruders. Catching the ginger-haired figure in the mirror, Draco whipped around, unsheathing his wand from his robes in one swift, practiced motion. The red head was already on him. Too fast.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled, and Draco's wand, quite impressively, flew into the air. A few seconds later he heard the distinct sound of it splashing into one of the toilets.

"Why did you do that Weasley? Ah well. I suppose _I_ can afford to buy a new, untainted one," Draco said, giving Ron his fiercest smirk of disgust. He fought back a grin when he noticed the tips of Ron's ears already growing pink with anger and/or embarrassment. "Accio toilet-drenched wand." The wand came floating back to him, careful to fly directly over Ron's head as an especially large drop of water fell from it. The smile became harder to fight as Ron's ears grew an even brighter shade of red. Draco clutched the wand in his hand, raising it eye level with Ron, who held his up as well. Then backed up.

"I won't jinx you if you won't jinx me, Malfoy."

"Who do you think I am, trying to make deals with me?"

"Well," Ron stammered. "I don't want a fight or anything. I just had to use the bathroom, you see."

"No one just _uses_ this bathroom, Weasley. Why would anyone want to go with Moaning Myrtle around?"

One of Ron's eyebrows shot up involuntarily and Draco sneered at him. "Then," Ron ventured, "why are _you_ in here?"

Draco had to do some quick thinking. Gratefully, he was an expert at such things. "Because, you filthy _weasel_, I'm on prefect duty and had something to attend to in here. Not that it's any of your business." He hoped this was good enough, but even as he said it, he knew that it wasn't. Ron lowered his wand and stuck it back into the folds of his robe. Then he softly tapped the shiny badge pinned onto his chest.

"I'm a prefect too, you know, and I never get caught up with Myrtle business. In fact, I try to steer clear of this hallway all together. Especially after second year when-

"Have you forgotten to whom it is you're talking, Weasley? I don't care about what happened to you in second year, though I could probably guess."

Apparently, Ron _had_ forgotten he was talking to the person he supposedly hated the most at Hogwarts, and he immediately stopped and looked to the floor. "Just offering some advice. I'm gonna go now. Leave you to your, erm…Prefect Business." He turned to leave but then stopped, wheeling around to face Draco again.

"What?"

Ron shook his head so his long, ginger hair fell out of his eyes and he shrugged. "You aren't going to jinx me when I'm walking out the door are you?"

Draco rolled his eyes and lowered his wand. "No." Draco reached in his mind for something clever to say to follow but he couldn't think of anything, regrettably.

"Right. Thanks then,"said Ronand in a rush of red and gold, he was out the door.

Draco turned back to the mirror, horrified to find a tear still clinging to the side of his cheek. He wiped it away with a finger and shut his eyes. He opened them when he heard an unpleasant moaning coming from one of the stalls. He followed the grotesque noise until he was face to face with Myrtle. She looked up at him, eyeing him curiously between her fingers.

"Is that the one you like, Draco?"

Draco leaned against the stall door and sighed. "Yeah. That's the one."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy sat in the Great Hall at the Slytherin table one Thursday evening, sipping his pumpkin juice and daydreaming. He and Ron were back in the bathroom, just as they had been the night before. But this time, instead of pointing their wands at each other, they were pushed up together against a stall, kissing fiercely. It was going very well and Ron was just about to unzip his pants when Draco was knocked out of his fantasy rather unfairly by a girlish squeak in his ear.

"What the fuck kind of noise was that?" Draco demanded, turning his attention back to Pansy Parkinson, who was possessively draping her arms around Draco's waist, digging her head into his shoulder, and leaning in to nibble his ear. "Mmm you smell like peppermint," she murmured into his hair.

"I do not. It's you," he responded, pulling his head away from her so she would stop trying to take deeper whiffs. She giggled (the apparent source of the girlish squeak), tightened her grip around his waist, and kissed him on the neck. Then she gave him a bite and he stifled a strange noise in the back of his throat. "Stop that," he said, raising a hand to his neck. "Christ! I think I'm bleeding." Pansy let her head roll back as she laughed. He sneered at her nastily and directed his attention to something (ok, _someone_) far more interesting at another table. His eyes were instantly filled with intoxicating ginger hair and blue eyes.

"Draco? Who are you staring at?" cooed Pansy. Her hands were gently caressing the blonde hair Draco had sleeked back onto his head. He quickly looked away from Ron and back to Pansy. It wasn't too bad of a trade since Ron was too busy stuffing his mouth with food to look gorgeous. Besides, Pansy was good-looking enough. She had full lips which she had smeared with plum shaded lipstick, eyes that were dark green and fierce, and large breasts that Draco couldn't help but stare curiously at. How she managed to stand upright, he could never quite figure. And when they kissed she did this amazing thing with her tongue.

"Ugh, that weasel? Doesn't he make you sick to your stomach? He's all dirty and strange."

Draco nodded, trying to allow his mind to venture back into his daydream. The pants were unzipping, lightly freckled skin moved against his body, Pansy had her hand on his thigh…

"You're distracting me, Pansy. Lay off," he told her, his voice low. She merely squeaked again and gave his thigh a hard squeeze. Draco hated himself for feeling a jolt in his groin from the sweet pressure of it.

"Do you want to go somewhere, Draco?" she asked smoothly. "I've been thinking about fucking you all day," she added after dropping her voice.

Draco turned to face her. "First of all, if anything, I would be the one fucking you. Probably harder than you'd want. Second, I've got a paper to write for McGonagall."

Pansy squeaked, but this time it was in anger. "You silly boy. I'm telling you I want to have sex and you're thinking of homework?" Draco noticed she was yet to remove her hand from his leg. In fact, she had begun to move her fingers in small circles up his thigh. "Something bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me. _You're_ bothering me," he said, his eyes glancing casually back to the Gryffindor table. Just as causally, Pansy moved her hand up to cup the bulge in Draco's pants.

Draco's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked him, giving him a curious look as if he were mad for acknowledging the groping hand. Draco then felt her slide her small hand into his pants.

He gave his own squeak this time. She squeaked in return, having a fit of giggles that caused a few Slytherins sitting near by to look over.

"What's the matter with you two?" Blaise asked. Draco opened his mouth to speak but, afraid that a groan would escape, closed it shut again. Pansy held him in a slow rhythm now and Draco was impressed by her skill of aloofness when she answered.

"It's called laughing you git. Haven't you seen that mudblood and Weasley going at it yet?" Both Blaise and Draco turned to the Gryffindor table at this. Blaise snorted and went back to his conversation with Goyle. Draco just watched helplessly. Ron and Hermione Granger were kissing. But soon pleasure was overpowering jealousy as he watched the two. The movement of Ron's skillful lips and Pansy's rough touch were bringing Draco dangerously close to coming. He grabbed her wrist underneath the table and yanked it away from him. He expected to see her in pain from the pressure he was applying to her wrist but she was grinning slyly at him, and he knew that she was enjoying the pain.

"You're sick," he told her.

"Meet me tonight, Draco, please? I'm so wet for you."

This made him blush furiously. "Dammit Pansy, shut up."

"Meet me."

"Fine. Nine o'clock."

"Where?"

"I don't fucking know. The library?"

"How 'bout Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? It's always empty."

"Erm, no I don't think-"

"But no one is ever there."

"Fine, Pansy. Nine then," he said angrily. She stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and ambled away from him, sitting herself further down the table next to a seventh year girl with over-plucked eyebrows. Draco sat very still, afraid that if he moved he might come, which he definitely didn't want to do in the middle of The Great Hall.

He sat and tried not to look over at Ron and Granger, who were still snogging shamelessly in front of everyone. _Disgusting_, Draco thought. If he snogged Ron, it would be in private. It would be intimate and sweaty. _If_ he snogged Ron…which he would never dare do. It's not that Draco thought Ron was straight, but the humiliation of being turned down by anyone was enough to make Draco nervous. But when had he ever been turned down before?

And that's when Draco realized, if he really wanted something, he always got it. And he wanted Ron, he decided with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own none of these fabulous characters.

Chapter 3

Sneaking off from the Slytherin common room had been easier than Draco could have hoped for. At ten till nine, he simply stood up from his chair, announced to Crabbe and Goyle that he had to go to a detention, and left. No one asked questions. They all knew better.

Thankful for his prefect badge, Draco walked confidently through the halls, meeting every adult he passed with a curt smile, as if he were _supposed_ to be walking around after hours. So, once again, no one questioned Mr. Malfoy.

Soon Draco was in the bathroom. He glanced himself over in the mirror to make sure he looked shag-worthy (which, of course, he did), and then leaned against the wall casually, waiting for Pansy.

"Draco?" came a sniveling voice from one of the stalls. Draco looked up to see the transparent Myrtle floating towards him.

"Hello Myrtle. I didn't come here to talk today. You need to get out of here," he snapped. Myrtle sighed heavily and floated closer to Draco.

"Then why are you here if not to cry? Aren't you still upset about the boy? He's cute but I don't like him," Myrtle said. "He's so mean to me. Everyone is so mean to poor, moaning Myrtle."

Draco rolled his eyes and folded his arms in front of his chest impatiently. "Myrtle just get out of here. I'm meeting someone really soon and you can't watch us."

"Oooh! Are you meeting _him_ Draco? Did you finally tell him how you feel?"

"Erm. No. Someone else is coming. Just go Myrtle. I'll come see you tomorrow."

Myrtle shrugged her see-through shoulders and floated back to her stall. Draco sighed with relief when he heard her jump into the drain. With Myrtle gone, the bathroom was eerily quiet and Draco thought his breathing sounded unnaturally loud. He turned to the mirror again and evaluated himself once more. Blonde hair neatly disheveled, skin more pale than usual, bags under his eyes. He looked like shit. Fortunately, even when Draco Malfoy looked like shit, he still looked ten times better than everyone else.

He was staring at his reflection when the door opened and Pansy walked in. Draco's eyes looked her up and down. She was wearing a plaid skirt and a small orange tank top that matched her hairclip. Her stockings were pulled tightly up around her thighs and a purple bra strap hung out on one shoulder. Pansy didn't have her usual lipstick on. Instead, her mouth was painted with a sheer gloss that made her lips look even fuller than usual. Draco smiled at her, pleased with her looks. She may not have been first on his list of people to shag, but she would be good enough. She'd always been before.

"Hi Draco," she cooed, walking close to him. Draco shook off his grin and glared at her. She just laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just knew you would come, is all. And if you're good," she licked his neck, "I'll let you come again."

"You're such a slut. How do you live with yourself?" he asked her as she got on her knees. She looked up at him from the floor and raised an eyebrow.

"How do _you_?" She unzipped his pants and as she did, Draco was reminded of his daydream, how he should be in here with someone else. He closed his eyes as Pansy swallowed him and all he could see was Ron snogging Granger. His hands all over her. Their eyes closed. Her hands running through his red hair. _Those lucky hands_, he thought. They got to touch that hair whenever they wanted.

"Draco?" Pansy said. She was still on the floor, but now she was sitting in front if him with her legs spread open around his legs. "Would this be better for you?"

Draco sighed as he looked down at her. It was pathetic how bad she was begging for it. But it was also really hot. So when Draco lifted her up from the ground, he pulled her close to him and pushed her up against the wall. She lifted herself up to him, wrapping her legs around his waist and whispering, "Fuck me Draco," into his ear. So he did fuck her, right as the bathroom door opened.

"Bloody hell I'm sorry!" came a startled voice. Draco yelped and pushed Pansy off of him so she dropped to the floor. He quickly zipped himself up and spun around. The person was already gone so Draco ran out the door as well, to try and catch a glimpse him. All he saw in the hallway was a red headed boy running around the corner.

Draco felt a hand come around his chest. Pansy stood behind him in the dark hallway.

"Draco."

"What?"

"I'm gonna head back now. Will you walk me?"

"No. Go yourself you fucking whore."

Pansy slapped him hard across the face. "Fucker," she called him. Then she kissed him on the cheek. "See you later," she said and she left.

As soon as she was gone, Draco rounded back into the bathroom. "Myrtle!" he called. He had a plan.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Chapter 4

Ron Weasley was tall, skinny, and splatter-painted with freckles. His family wasn't the wealthiest and their signature red hair was anything but discreet, but Ron was undeniably attractive and there had even been talk around the school that wagered his looks better than Draco Malfoy's. Ron had scoffed at this but the thought never managed to fully leave his mind, so whenever he found himself face to face with the Slytherin, he couldn't help but compare their features. Ron liked to study the face in class, insisting to Hermione and Harry that they should sit where they had a good view of Draco.

"I don't enjoy having to look at him in my spare time Ron," Harry had said and Hermione had nodded in agreement but Ron could not be dissuaded.

"But this way we can see if he's up to something, can't we? Better to keep an eye on the idiot, don't you think?"

Either that had been reason enough or Hermione and Harry were too tired to argue, but it was resolved with the three of them sitting in a scrutinizing view of Draco Malfoy. And Ron did his best to scrutinize as much as possible during those long, boring classes. He had become accustomed to the face as features he hadn't noticed before seemed familiar to him now. A small freckle on his jawbone, long eyelashes, large pupils that always managed to look everywhere but at the professor, himself included. It had been a few weeks ago that Ron had been caught staring at the blonde strand of hair sweeping across Draco's perfectly proportioned forehead. Wide eyes had frozen him and Ron could not even rummage up the humility to look away. Draco didn't avert his eyes either. So they had simply stared at one another across the tables until Ron finally had to blink. But in that split second Draco turned his head and Ron opened his eyes to find a very nonchalant boy whispering with his friends and that tramp Pansy. _Are they dating_, Ron always wondered, because he would see them snogging and then he would overhear Draco brandishing her with ugly comments and angry looks. He didn't care if they were dating or not, he just found it disgusting how they treated each other and wished they wouldn't do it in public.

Thoughts of Draco and Pansy began to swarm his mind. The image of her pushed up between the wall and Draco, her skirt resting above her waist and Draco ramming into her with violent thrusts, his face buried into her chest as she clawed his back desperately. The tiny moans Ron had heard as he passed the bathroom door had intrigued him in the beginning because he found it highly amusing that two students had found a place to shag in the school. This brought him to the outside of the door with his ear pressed to it. Then he began to wonder who could possibly be inside and making those wonderful noises. He remembered suddenly how he had ran into Draco there the day before and how there was a good chance that _he_ was the one inside making those noises, or rather, making someone make those noises. This brought his hand to the doorknob and his heartbeat to quicken. And what finally pushed Ron over the edge and through the bathroom door was the nearly inaudible gasp of pleasure on the other side of the wall. He had meant to open the door slowly so he could watch in silence for a moment and then slip out without ever being noticed, but being his inevitably doomed self, Ron had burst through the threshold clumsily and the door had banged impossibly loud against the wall almost ricocheting back to hit him in the face. All Ron had allowed himself to see before turning and running away had been Draco fucking Pansy. All he had heard was a gasp and a loud thump (probably Pansy falling on her arse, the stupid slut). Ron had ran out of there as fast as he could, nearly falling on his own arse as he tripped around the corner, not slowing his pace until he was inside the Gryffindor common room where he would have continued running all the way up to his dormitory if he hadn't slammed into Hermione on the way. He mumbled an apology as he helped her up from the floor.

"Ron! What's going on? Are you alright?" she'd asked. He had nodded and given his best at a smile, which she returned, though her eyes were disconcerted. He allowed her to lead him to a chair. He allowed her to sit down in his lap. He allowed her to stroke his thigh. But he was distant.

"What's wrong Ron?"

"Nothing, why?"

"You just body slammed me," she said, quirking an eyebrow and denying herself a smile.

"Sorry about that one. I was just going so fast I couldn't rightly stop myself or change directions, could I?"

"Maybe I should have just jumped out of the way, then. Next time I see you running at me like a lunatic, I think I will. Assuming there is a next time, which I'm hoping there won't be for both our sakes," Hermione said as she rubbed the back of her head that had hit the floor. Ron closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair, feeling the weight of her on top of him. That's when he realized he had an erection…and it wasn't from Hermione sitting in his lap either.

Draco paced up and down the bathroom floor impatiently, his hands in his pockets and his Prefect's badge shiny against his robes. It was nearly time and Draco's palms were clammy with nerves. He denied this of course, because Malfoys didn't get nervous. His heart just happened to be beating faster than usual and he was only shaking slightly because of the draft in that wing of the castle. He assured himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. He was _Draco_. People thought him handsome and rich and clever. People looked up to him. He'd shagged more students than less within the last year or so and he was indisputably…the best. Things were going to go just as he imagined when Ron showed up, which would be soon since Myrtle had left at least five minutes earlier, wailing for the Gryffindor Prefect with ginger hair. Before long, Ron would show up, his wand ready to catch a few third years smoking gillyweed, and Draco would be waiting for him, leaning against the wall seductively. He would beckon Ron closer and he would get to stare into those eyes for e few seconds before leaning in for a kiss. It would start off slow and then, as their passion began to grow, it would roughen and Draco would have Ron just as he had had so many before. Except it would be different somehow, he knew. Ron would be clumsy and inexperienced but Draco would be patient and gentle. First Ron would come in his mouth so hard Draco would hardly be able to swallow fast enough. Then-

"I caught you, you junkies!" came a yell as Ron flew through the door, his wand held out in front of him. He stopped when he saw Draco, who read his face as it went from arrogance, to anger, to confusion, to embarrassment. "Did you get them already Malfoy? Did you catch them and send them up to their heads of houses?" Ron was panting. He was out of breath from the sprint but that wasn't why his face was turning red, Draco wagered as he suppressed a laugh.

"Malfoy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco said as he leaned up against the same wall he had fucked Pansy against. Ron backed away from the blonde.

"Erm. What's going on here?"

"Come here and I'll show you," Draco said in an almost-whisper. Ron hesitated for a moment, but then took a deep breath and took a few steps closer to Draco, who lifted his finger and willed him even closer until their faces were only a few inches apart.

"Okay. I'm here Malfoy. Now tell me _why_ I'm here cause I'm really confused," Ron said. In response, Draco raised a hand to touch Ron's cheek. Ron jumped underneath Draco's touch but he didn't move away. He let the hand caress his skin. It wasn't until Draco brushed his lips against his neck that Ron pushed him away.

"Bloody hell!" he yelled, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Draco. Draco, who looked both pained and confused, didn't reach for his wand. He just stood there quietly and watched Ron watch him in disgust.

"I can't believe it! You're a…you're a faggot!"

Draco winced at the harsh word and Ron looked mildly surprised to have said it as well.

"Am not," was all Draco said. Ron looked dumbfounded as he took more steps back.

"Are too!"

"Am not."

"You kissed me!"

"Yes."

"You're gay!"

" Is that so important Weasley?"

"Eh?"

" Does it change the fact that you want me?"

"I…what?" Ron sputtered.

"You want me."

"No I don't. I've a girlfriend you poofter! Hermione! My _girlfriend_. She's…she's a…a _girl_!"

"That mudblood can't do anything for you that I could do."

"Don't call her that again or I swear I'll stupefy you," Ron threatened, suddenly enraged.

Something inside Draco broke as he looked at the angry face in front of him. A feeling he had never felt before was spreading through him like fire and he didn't like it. It was cold and unfriendly. It was rejection.

"I'm sorry," Draco said and he walked past Ron and out the door. Ron caught the scent of peppermint in the air a moment later and then he was left standing in the center of the bathroom, too shocked to move. Draco Malfoy had apologized. Draco Malfoy had kissed his neck. Draco Malfoy had looked as though he were about to cry.

Ron turned to look at himself in the mirror and gasped as he saw the girl's reflection standing behind him.

"Hermione!" Ron said as he turned to face her.

"I saw Draco coming from this way. Was he in here with you?"

"No. Didn't see him. Just popping in for a quick…wash," Ron said, turning on the sink faucet and sticking his hands underneath the cool flow of water. Hermione sighed and pressed herself against Ron's back, wrapping her arms around his stomach tenderly. But when her lips brushed against his neck, Ron had to stick his whole face under the water. It wasn't until he had shaken the feeling of Draco's mouth on his skin that Ron finally emerged from his watery refuge to look up at Hermione.

"You're mad," she told him.

"I think you may be right," he said and they walked out of the bathroom together, neither mentioning the obvious swelling in Ron's pants…and it wasn't from Hermione's kiss either.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think everyone knows I didn't create these characters…

Chapter 5:

Leaving the bathroom in a blur of confusion and anxiety, Draco passed Hermione Granger and, unfathomably, failed to insult or maliciously glare at her. If he had been paying attention to anything other than the pounding in his chest, he would have noticed how Hermione cringed when she rounded the corner and spotted him. He would have seen that look on her face, that loathsome kind of look that Draco was so accustomed to being greeted with. Had he seen her, he would have looked right at her.

And he would have broken down right there in the middle of the hall.

Because seeing her would make him see Ron beneath her eyes, kissing her, touching her, talking to her. Because she was his girlfriend and because she was a girl.

_Because Hermione is a girl. _

When had Draco started envying mudbloods? When had he become so weak? It was a very lucky thing that Draco hadn't seen Hermione passing him in the hallway. He would have killed her.

Draco found his way back to the Slytherin common room in a daze. As he looked about the room all he processed were the traces of green ties and faces that should have looked familiar but made him feel even colder inside. Miserable, he dropped onto a couch next to Pansy. The way she sat, her legs spread widely apart and her tiny hands resting high on her pale thighs, made her look like she belonged on a street corner, not at Hogwarts. _Perhaps we could work the same corner_, Draco mused. Surely what he had done could earn him the considerable worthlessness of dirt, of a slut, of Pansy. He had kissed Ron. On the neck. He had kissed him and been pushed away. Draco had never been turned down before.

"Can't boast 'bout that now, can I?" he asked himself aloud, forgetting where he was in his trauma. The comment earned an eyebrow to rise from Pansy, who had managed to undetectably scoot herself closer to Draco within the few seconds he had been there.

"Can't boast about what?" she purred, raising a hand to caress the blonde wisps of hair that swept messily across his face.

"Draco," she whispered. "What's the matter?" She must have detected the stress in his voice. When he said nothing in response, she pressed further, to his endless annoyance. "Draco? Is everything okay?"

He nodded and rolled his eyes at her. She was so predictable it made his head ache. Her hand was now closed over his and it felt unnatural. _He_ felt unnatural.

"Don't touch me. I don't know where you've been," he snapped at her. A smile appeared on her plum lips as she clutched his hand more firmly.

"Shall I write you a list of all the blokes I've shagged since I had you?"

He shook off her hand as if it were something that would sting him.

"And a list of all the girls that have gotten me off, as well? Do you want those separate or shall I combine them both on one piece of parchment?"

"You may need more than _one_ piece of parchment."

She squeaked and tossed her head back. "It's true," she admitted. "That's why you're sitting beside me." She grabbed his hand back and pressed it hard against her thigh. "And I'll admit, I love it when you do, Draco."

He made no effort to reclaim his hand. The warmth from Pansy's leg was pleasant. He also made no objection when she moved it further up, pushing it well beyond the hem of her skirt. A few Slytherin girls looked over and started giggling.

"I haven't come for about," she mock-checked her wristwatch, "half an hour now. That's not to my liking, no." She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "I've got a bottle of Ogden's best in my room. What do you say?"

He looked at her eager face and thought it must have reflected his own, because he nodded and swallowed his thoughts of Ron.

"Okay."

Draco woke up the next morning to find a heavy weight on top of him. It felt like one thousand pillows trying to smother his breathing. That is how he lay for a solid seven minutes, just listening to his own struggled breaths, timing the movement of his bare chest as it rose and fell out of rhythm to his heartbeat. He found it odd that this slow but sure death by suffocation wasn't so much burdensome but relaxing. Though he did have to pee…

He twitched his arm and made to sit up, but then he remembered the heavy weight and fell back down in exasperation. This was definitely something heavier than a few feather pillows. Draco moved his hands over the foreign, unwelcome object that was keeping him from going to the bathroom and discovered, with only the slightest amazement, that it had breasts.

Once realizing for certain the foreigner was Pansy, he pushed her off hastily and without care. She rolled to the ground with a muffled thump. Draco twisted his head to see what had softened her heavy fall and was mildly amused to see that they were in the middle of the Quidditch field. Pansy had fallen off Draco and into the grass.

"Draco?" she said as she sat up, her green eyes sparkling like the morning dew surrounding her. "Why the hell are we outside?"

"Fuck if I know," he answered with his usual air of nonchalance that many Slytherin wizards often practiced in the mirror to copy to perfection.

"Oh fuck. Draco?"

He turned to the disheveled girl beside him. She looked a mess. Her dark hair was all matted down on one side, her lipstick smeared, and her eyes were like a blurry swamp of eyeliner and mascara clumps. Draco hoped he didn't look as bad as she did.

"Do you see my panties?"

"Are you sure you were even wearing any?"

She thought a moment about this. "No, actually. I don'_t_ think I _was_."

Draco stood up. Then he sat back down. He wasn't wearing any clothes.

"Pansy!" He yelled at her as she rolled about in laughter. "Where are my bloody clothes?"

"I don't know," she answered as she scooted up next to him. "Maybe they're with my knickers, hmm?" Her hand was on his thigh now and she was so close he could smell her unwashed skin. Crinkling his nose, he swatted her away.

"I need to get inside, Pansy! How do you expect me to go in with nothing on?"

"Oh come now, Draco. Most everyone's already seen what you've got to offer."

"Pansy, this isn't funny," Draco hissed, searching his mind urgently for a solution. "Listen, I need you to do this. Go inside, find Potter, and get his cloak, alright?"

Pansy faked a gag and rolled her eyes at Draco. "You cannot be serious. Potter?"

Draco shook his head as he looked at her. "It's the only option I've got."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall eating breakfast when the doors swung open loudly and a petite, pug faced Slytherin pranced through them. Ron eyed her up and down, taking note that her white button up shirt had grass stains all up the side and her skirt was noticeably unzipped. For a moment, he pondered the idea of Albus maybe having hired a call girl, but forgot that when he registered who she was. Pansy Parkinson. And she was walking right towards them at Gryffindor table.

It was Hermione who said something first.

"Does she know what she looks like?"

"Like someone who should have a mudblood like _you_ kissing her boots," Pansy spoke as she sat down between Ron and Hermione. "Or kissing me somewhere else if you'd like, love," Pansy said, leaning flirtatiously close to Hermione.

Hermione flinched and exchanged a befuddled look with Harry across the table.

"Pansy, what do you want?" piped Harry.

"I came to speak with you, _Potter_," she said, his name spitted out in disgust in perfect imitation of Draco. But she wasn't looking at Harry. She was looking straight at Ron, who fought to keep his eyes on the bowl of porridge in front of him.

"And why do you want to talk to me?" Harry asked her, quirking an eyebrow.

Pansy rolled her eyes and fidgeted in her chair, fingering her shirt collar teasingly. "Draco needs your help."

At this, all three looked at Pansy in awe, Ron blushing madly. Pansy caught this.

"What's the matter with _you_?"

"Nothing's the matter with me. What's the matter with you?"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, please." Ron fumed. "Pansy, why does Malfoy need Harry's help?"

Pansy took a sip of Ron's pumpkin juice. "You see, Draco and I might have had a few firewhiskeys or something last night. Long story short, we woke up in the Quidditch field. Draco's naked. Lost his clothes, you see. Probably from all the shagging we did. God am I sore!" Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. But then again, so did Ron. "You've got an invisibility cloak, right? I don't know why I bother to ask since I know you do. Draco needs it to get back into the school."

"Listen, this is really bizarre and I'm swamped this morning with essays. I don't have time to go helping sworn enemies, okay Pansy?" said Harry. His face was screwed up with a mixture of several expressions, most being extreme pleasure.

"Fuck you Potter. Just let him borrow your invisibility cloak," she said, raising her voice slightly. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione desperately. They both shrugged at him with sympathetic faces.

"Fine. If you won't do it, someone else can, can't they? _You_ can," she said, her eyes back on Ron.

"What? No I can't!"

Harry's eyes widened as he leapt for this new option. "Sure you can mate! You know I've got lots to do and you and Hermione already did yours yesterday so…"

"So Hermione can go! No way am I going!" Ron practically screamed, his face more scarlet than ever before. Draco, surely a sexual predator, was outside naked and Ron was going to have to be near him. Disgusting…erm, really _really_ just, like, nasty…

"He doesn't want the _mudblood_. Either Potter or Weasley go," Pansy snapped, matter-of-factly.

"Ron, we can't just leave him out there," said Hermione, though her voice was taut with anger. "Just go. It'll only take a few minutes, right?" Pansy nodded enthusiastically.

"Just a few fucking minutes. Or are you so selfish you would leave a fellow student completely helpless? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be _brave_," she said. Ron stood up on shaky legs. Hermione patted him on the back and Harry looked down at his food guiltily.

"I have to go upstairs to get the cloak. Meet me in the field in five minutes Parkinson," he said, his voice ringing with as much nerve as he could muster.

Five minutes later, Ron was outside, the cloak over his head. He looked around for signs of Pansy, but he didn't see her. He did see, however, the distinct figure of a blonde haired boy cowering in the middle of the Quidditch field. With an oath, Ron began to head in his direction.

Draco was freezing. It was probably, in actuality, a fine spring morning. Had he been clothed, Draco would have most likely enjoyed it. But, alas. He was naked and the goddamn wind was blowing in the most unpleasant of ways.

"Fucking, fucking, fucking Pansy fucking, fucking, FUCKING Parkinson!" Draco muttered under his breath as he shivered under the overcast sky. Of all the stupid things he had done with her, getting tipsy and waking up naked outside was definitely the worst. Now, pathetically, he had to wait for Potter to come and save him. Frankly, he would rather die. But he had no choice. He just hoped he would be remembered as he once was, before he succumbed to the generosity of others…the charity, the kindness…the humiliation!

"Ahem," came a voice from above him. Draco yelped and flung his hands over himself, as if that would help. He scanned the area around him and saw nothing.

"Who's there?"

"Oh, yeah right. Sorry," said the voice again and Ron appeared suddenly before Draco, the invisibility cloak in his hands. "I always forget to take it off," he explained, looking away from Draco.

"Right," Draco said. A beyond awkward silence stood between the two boys before Draco took a deep breath and stood up. Ron gasped involuntarily. "Why did you come?" Draco found it impossible to reel any insults at the redhead, given the current situation. Besides, he had no insults to give. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the boy in front of him.

"No one else could," Ron replied. "It's not like I wanted to or anything."

Draco reached a hand out for the cloak and Ron backed away. "No way. I can't just _give_ you this and have you running around the school invisible. You may never give it back."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Draco asked, genuinely confused. The only other possibility would be that they _both_ walk underneath the cloak and that…that was out of the question.

"We're going to have to both walk under the cloak, Malfoy," Ron said, his eyes straightforward, trying desperately not to roam about.

"Both of us. Really? You want to walk under a blanket with me?"

Ron looked horrified. "No! Of course not. I don't…listen, you're one to talk okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're the _gay_ one here so you'd be enjoying it, not me."

That crushing feeling returned to Draco's chest in an instant as he wavered for the strength to stand. "I don't sink so low as to bother people I know despise me."

"I don't des-" Ron began but stopped mid-sentence. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

When they were standing under the cloak, they were both fighting to keep their breathing at a normal pace. It was nothing that they were so close to each other. It was nothing that Draco's bare skin was rubbing against Ron as they walked back to the castle. It was nothing that their steps were in perfect synchronization as they entered the castle and, without conversing, silently agreed to take the long route back to the Slytherin common room.

"Everyone is still at breakfast so you should be fine from here," Ron said as they stood outside the room.

"I'll just sprint to my room, then," said Draco, sliding out from beneath the cloak. He directed his eyes to where he guessed Ron was still standing. "Thanks." He turned his back and was about whisper his password, when he felt strong hands gripping his waist from behind and he was rammed into the wall with so much force that he groaned from the impact. Draco was silent as the body leaned into him and soft lips brushed against the nape of his neck. His eyes strayed to the floor, where the invisibility cloak lay in a huddled pile.

"I…" came Ron's hushed voice. "I don't fucking despise you."

The hands then released him and Draco held his breath. He did not exhale until the sound of footsteps disappeared and the ginger haired wizard was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Chapter 6

Ron paced his empty dormitory.

"Oh no…

Jesus Christ…

Bloody hell…

Please no, please no, please no…

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

…

Yes.

* * *

Draco dipped his head back into the bath water so that it completely soaked his hair. He scrubbed at a particularly stubborn grass stain on his knee and he smiled. In fact, he couldn't stop.

* * *

Pansy was sitting under the shade of a large tree by the lake. The deep brunette locks that she usually kept clipped back were tossed in an unkempt manner in front of her face. Her customary plum lips were painted pale instead, and they parted slightly so the tip of her quill could be chewed. A pastel green top that sank into a low v-neck at her bust replaced a traditional, crisp oxford. The breeze moved her hair slightly, messing her bangs with each gentle gust. She kept her delicate hand on a pendant around her neck as she read beneath the tree. All of this, Hermione observed from the shade of her and Ron's own tree, some ten yards away.

"Ron?" she asked from the lap of her boyfriend. Her intention had not been to stare at Pansy Parkinson as she was spending the day with Ron. Ron's eyes, however, were _also_ busy staring elsewhere. Though at what, Hermione had no idea. The only person by the water's edge, the location to which Ron's furtive glances so diligently belonged, was Draco Malfoy.

"Ron?" she tried again. No luck. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and he jumped beneath her touch as if she were fire.

"I didn't do it!" he yelled. He stared wide-eyed and horror stricken at Hermione a moment before seemingly returning to reality, where he was welcomed with pink ears and a flushed face.

"Didn't do what Ronald?" Hermione asked him, sighing. Ron, fully recovered now, stammered for the right answer.

"I-I-I…erm…" he said and Hermione tried to, but couldn't _quite_ ignore the anxious glances being thrown back to the lake's edge where Draco stood. What was he even doing, Hermione wondered. Skipping stones? She sincerely doubted it.

"Ron, what happened with Draco yesterday?" Her question proved wicked, causing Ron's ears to nearly set ablaze with the blush deepening them. His response, however, was icy.

"Nothing happened!" he nearly screamed. Hermione allowed herself to look taken aback for a moment before readjusting herself to Ron's sudden burst of temperament.

"I mean with the cloak, Ron. What happened?"

More blushing ensued.

"Oh," Ron began. "Right, well it's simple really. We just walked inside together. That's all," he said, but his voice sounded shaky and distant. Hermione shook her head and decided to think nothing else of it. It was strange for him to be so nervous around her but she asked herself, when had Ron ever acted _normal_?

* * *

Draco stood facing the lake; fully aware that Ron's eyes were on his back. It had been twenty-six hours since it "happened". Draco knew because he had been religiously watching the clock ever since, thinking things like "_This time yesterday I had no idea Ron was going to kiss me," _or _"Twenty-four hours ago I was walking naked next to Ron," _or "_At this same exact moment yesterday I was being pushed up against a wall."_

The thought drove him crazy. It was so incredible and good that it couldn't have really happened, he was sure. In fact, Draco had been in a near dream state ever since it _had_ happened. He felt such relief that he was still the irresistible Slytherin Sex God none could resist, that he stood over the lake without even the smallest ounce of self-doubt in his head. Ron, after all, had come around, even if it was only for a minute. And even though the ginger-haired Gryffindor was ignoring him now, Draco would always have that one minute with him. And if it had to be, it _would_ be enough.

* * *

Pansy was trying not to stare at the mudblood but her curls were disgustingly enticing and the perk of her nose was annoyingly adorable.

Fuck.

Hermione was lying with her head in Weasley's lap. Pansy had laughed when she watched Ron trekking out to the Quidditch field on his own, probably cursing up a storm under his breath. Shortly after, he had disappeared beneath the invisibility cloak and Pansy had lost sight of him along with her interest in the whole situation. The fact that Weasley's eyes were plastered to Draco proved her theory correct in that the boy was completely infatuated. She had known right away, ever since he had walked in on them in the bathroom, that he would be. Everyone loved Draco and the look in Ron's eyes said everything.

Hermione bit her lip, Pansy observed. She wasn't all that bothered by Draco anymore.

* * *

Ron could still taste the sweetness on his lips as he lay under the tree. Hermione's head rested in his lap but he noticed that her attention was on Pansy. He didn't question the oddity of that assessment because he didn't really care. He was too busy staring at Draco, who was standing mysteriously by himself, to bother with Hermione. The thought was cruel but the thought of _not_ looking at the tall blonde was infinitely worse. He didn't think he would ever want to look anywhere but at Draco for the rest of his life.

But then his eyes started to water and he had to blink.

* * *

That evening when everyone was dining (desert was being served and treacle tart was Draco's favorite), there were two very strange differences between two of the houses. Those two differences were Ron Weasley of Gryffindor, and Draco Malfoy of Slytherin. It was nothing out of the ordinary that these two young wizards were in the Great Hall. No, what was strange was how they couldn't stop staring at one another, and the other members of the houses couldn't help but take to noticing this.

"Draco?"

"Mate, what's going on here?"

"Malfoy, are you going to eat that?"

The blonde waved off the questions. It was of little importance to him anymore whether people thought him debonair or daft. Neither one nor the other, Draco was Draco.

And Draco wanted Ron. So, being the slinky Slytherin he so was, Draco stood from his seat and sauntered over to the opposite side of the Hall, his eyes locked onto Ron's the whole time.

* * *

Ron looked up to find Draco standing over him. Other Gryffindors were whispering to each other and Hermione, he knew, was trying to get him to look at her but his own eyes never faltered from the pale face and blonde hair.

"Ron. Can I have a word?" was what Draco said to him, raising his eyebrows as he so often did. Ron reciprocated the gesture and stood up. They were nearly the same height, Ron standing slightly taller.

"Ron?" Hermione said, her voice small. A cool hand rested on her shoulder and she looked up to see Pansy standing there, a look on her face she had never seen before.

"Ron…" was all Draco said now, not because there were no words, but because his throat was strangely dry all of the sudden and he wouldn't risk opening his mouth and having his voice strain under the pressure. And there was so much pressure standing there in front of the red head. "Ron…" he was going to look like an idiot. He would have too, hadn't Ron grabbed him and pulled him into a tender kiss in front of the entire body of Hogwarts students.

A small gasp may have sounded from Hermione but one couldn't have heard it over the uproar of students. Pansy's laugh came through however, and Hermione glared at her. Pansy shrugged and kept her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

When Ron finally pulled away, they were both breathless. They were both speechless. They were both blushing with the glow of new lovers and when Draco smiled at Ron, Ron smiled back.

"Don't get any ideas Malfoy," was what he said next. And then, in a rush of new bravery, Ron leaned in to kiss the boy again. He could have sworn he saw Pansy and Hermione leaving the room together from the corner of his eye.

* * *

"Myrtle, you need to get out of here."

"Are you meeting someone?"

"Yes! Now go!"

"Oh Draco, you never come to talk to me anymore. No one wants to talk to miserable, moaning Myrtle…"

"Oh come off it, I can't have you here."

"Is it that girl?"

"No."

"That other girl?"

"No."

"Oh? Oh!"

Draco rolled his eyes at Myrtle who was fleeing back to her toilet. The splash let him know she was back in her u-bend and he leaned himself up against the wall across from the mirror so he could look at himself.

Draco Malfoy was not too tall and not too short. His eyebrows were not uninviting and his teeth were straight enough. He was good-looking and wanted by nearly all the Slytherin girls (and boys) at Hogwarts. So when he saw his reflection, he grinned. When he saw the ginger haired boy in the reflection, he grinned even wider.

"Malfoy," Ron said, walking up behind him. Draco turned to face him and quickly closed the distance between them.

"Weasley."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: These characters are solely from the mind of J.K. Rowling's I'm-too-straight-for-my-own-good-universe. Hence, the whole point of Harry Potter fanfiction (where everyone is gay, even if you don't realize it yet).

Chapter Seven

Ron was sitting on the floor of the loo, contemplating, assessing, and reassessing. He listed the happenings of his week on the parchment in his head, figuratively speaking of course.

1. I walked in on Draco crying in the bathroom (odd)

2. I saw Draco shagging Pansy in the bathroom (odd yet undeniably hot)

3. Draco kissed me in the bathroom (well, alright…if it had to be done…)

4. I called Draco a (cringe)…well, I called him a faggot. But I was in a right shock!

5. I, yes I, Ron Weasley kissed Draco, yes Draco Malfoy. (It's the hair I think. It's all shiny and irresistible. It really wasn't my fault at all. I think the bloke's got a bit of Veela in him, honestly. It's the only way this bloody thing makes any sense)

6. I kissed the Slytherin bastard again! (But it was worse this time because it was on the lips in front of everyone)

7. Not that the "on the lips part" was bad at all. It was (the Veela prat) really nice actually and it sort of, in a way, makes up for the embarrassment of doing it in front of everyone and such. But just sort of.

8. I agreed to meet Draco in Myrtle's bathroom. (Where more kissing ensued…but just some light kissing, nothing gay…I'm not gay)

9. Oh and I think Hermione is shagging Pansy Parkinson now, by the by. (I think as in I stumbled in on them shagging last night. Don't even ask how because I haven't the frankest idea)

10. It was hot though.

He reviewed the list, all of them being significant, all of them being significantly annoying. He was left now, with the aftermath of an exciting week, sitting on the dusty floor of an abandoned girls' bathroom, save the occasional company of a certain moaning someone. But only occasional company, as Myrtle much rather enjoyed conversing with Draco than Ron. Yes, there he sat on the floor. A wallower of times past. A martyr of youth. A victim of evil Veela powers. Ron sighed. What was the use? He'd spend the rest of his life hidden away in this bathroom if he could, but he very well couldn't. He was needed, apparently, by everyone.

"You can see me for detention Mister Weasley," Snape had growled.

"Practice today Ron! Be on the field right after breakfast!" Ginny had informed him.

"Write our essays together, Ron?" Harry had asked him.

"Can we talk about what you saw last night, Ronald?" Hermione had pleaded.

"I want to see you again. Meet me tonight," Draco had whispered in his ear during lunch.

All those requests (the first one being a _demand_) and which one had Ron chosen but the last. It was impossible to him, inconceivable to the utmost extremes that he was actually giving in, bending his schedule and ditching a detention (with Snape of all people), for the simple task of a snog with Draco. Shouldn't, he realized, he be repulsed by it? It was gay. And not "gay" in the way he heard many Americans using it in the muggle cinema (the way they tossed it around like an insult really bugged Ron), but "gay" as in actually gay. As in homosexual, shirt lifter, poofter extraordinaire.

Ron was _not_ gay. _Ron_ was not gay. Ron wasn't _gay_. _Wasn't_ he straight? He _wasn't_. No, he wasn't, _was_ he? If he was having these thoughts about Draco, if he was meeting Draco for snogs in a bathroom, if he was enjoying these snogs with Draco in bathrooms, he had to be not straight. Ronald Bilius Weasley had to be not straight, meaning gay, shirt lifter, and poofter extraordinaire. He had never thought of it before in such great detail but now that he spared it a thought, it was clear. It was bloody obvious, in fact.

Gay.

"I'm not straight," Ron said aloud and he wondered if he could admit the truth and, for the rest of his life, escape the consequences attached to it. If he could, he'd try and skip all of it, even the part about being gay. Except for parts where he snogged Draco. Those parts were nice enough. Those parts were tolerable. Speaking of Draco, where was he? Ron wasn't skipping out on Snape for no reason.

As if on cue, Draco waltzed through the door, hands in pockets and smirk on face. After years of observing that face and those smirks, Ron had learned to associate each different smirk with a different emotion. For example, Draco's smirk at the moment was a happy smirk. He knew this because it was the same one he wore when he answered a question correctly in class, or told a funny joke everyone laughed at. And while Ron enjoyed Draco's "happy" smirk, he much preferred his "kissed" smirk, in which the obvious explained the title.

"Well it's official," Draco exclaimed, dramatically flopping himself down beside Ron on the floor. Ron was bewildered for a moment as he processed the fact that Draco wanted to sit on a nasty bathroom _floor_ with him. But then, Draco hadn't turned out to be the same as he thought him, had he?

"What?" Ron asked. It was amusing how excited Draco got about little things, like the other day when they had had to transform beetles into wristwatches during Transfigurations. His face had been all aglow as he cast the spell. His beetle had transformed into the most expensive of watch brands, and he had fastened it on his wrist proudly. Draco looked at Ron now with the same excited eyes.

"Pansy Parkinson and Granger," he said, allowing his voice to trail off. When Ron nudged him, he continued. "Pansy and Granger are a…" he faked a gag, "A lucrative way to get over us, I'd say. Eh, Weasley?" Despite the new closeness the two boys had developed over the last few days, it still felt unnatural referring to each other with their first names. Needless to say, it was avoided at all costs.

"Ugh," Ron groaned into Draco's shoulder. "I feel terribly 'bout that."

"Do you really?" Draco asked him, gray eyes wide and curious. Ron shrugged.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Ron pushed some bothersome hair from his face, not catching the glint of attraction in Draco's eyes as he did so. "I honestly haven't thought on it much."

The sudden kiss on Draco's part wasn't so sudden really, because by now Ron was well accustomed to his random outbursts. He was a "in the throes of passion" kind of bloke, Ron thought. So what kind of bloke did that make Ron? A "in the throes of the throes of passion" kind of guy? Whether true or not, Ron didn't care at the moment because the fact of the matter was that Draco was kissing him and Ron always liked to throw all of his concentration into their kisses.

Kissing Draco had been strange at first. It wasn't necessarily because Draco was a boy but because Draco was…Draco. Strange, by no means meant bad. Ron could only hope Draco felt the same way. Strange, odd, and sexy, but never bad. How could this ever, ever be bad?

"Strange," Draco mumbled into Ron's mouth as they kissed. Ron pulled away.

"What?"

Draco was smirking Ron's favorite smirk now. "Strange." Ron thought that's what he heard but he had passed it off as impossible since the same thought had been going through _his_ head.

"Strange?" Ron repeated dumbly. Draco nodded and resumed to kissing Ron, tracing the edge of his jaw with his lips.

"What kind of strange?" Ron ventured. "I mean, not…not _bad_ strange, right?"

Draco moved his head up eyelevel with Ron, whom was looking unusually pale. "Bad strange?"

"Bad strange," Ron sputtered, trying to explain himself. "Like a new haircut or the wrong flavor Bert's Bean."

Draco removed his smirk and simply stared at Ron, his face unmasked. Ron could feel his stomach dropping like a stone to the ground. The silence was unbearable.

"Strange," Draco repeated, seemingly talking to himself. "Not bad strange like the wrong flavor Bert's Bean, or strange strange like my ex going out with your ex, but…strange."

"Sorry Draco," Ron let his actual name slip out, "but what the fuck does that mean?"

But when Draco responded by holding Ron's hand in his and leaning his head against his shoulder, Ron knew exactly whatit meant.


End file.
